


those great whites they have big teeth

by beebeereads



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben Has an Oral Fixation, Ben Solo Thinks He's Hot Shit, Cocktail Stirrers, F/M, Oral Sex, Rey Niima Is a Stone Cold Fox, Rocket Pops, Using a Beta? In This Economy? No Thanks, What Are Any Of Us Even Doing?, but only in his mind, cherry stems, for now
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:40:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27789124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beebeereads/pseuds/beebeereads
Summary: Benjamin Organa-Solo was supposed to be the Prince, but as he wills his erection to go down so he can get up from the table, he thinks he may have just found his Queen.Ben was supposed to be the shark, but one full toothed smile from Councilwoman Rey Niima and he realizes he might be the bait
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10
Collections: Who's that ship? It's Reylo!





	those great whites they have big teeth

**Author's Note:**

> Based upon the New Girl Episode (Season 4, Episode 12)
> 
> If there are any tags missing please let me know! This was done in a haze who knows what it contains.

Benjamin Organa-Solo has a lot going for him. Truly, he does. He quit his soul-sucking job at the First Order. He’s reconnecting with his best friends and maybe one day (but let’s not get ahead of ourselves he thinks) he’ll reconnect with his parents. He has more than enough in his savings account to keep living in a loft with his three best friends until he figures out what his next move is. Like he said, a lot going for him.

A fact he has to remind himself of as the night-crew construction worker makes eyes at him through his window for the eighth night in a row. And while he’s right in the middle of his hair care routine. The audacity. 

He’s had enough. One last lingering eye contact with the night-laborer and Ben storms from his room hair mask still in place, looking for a roommate to vent to.

“Poe, you didn’t say I was going to be moving in to a war zone. The noise is hell and I don’t know how—“

“You don’t know how to live with the repercussions it will have on your life of leisure?” 

If he weren’t his oldest friend Ben wouldn’t stand for the interruption. But Poe had welcomed him back in to his bosom arms of friendship no questions asked when Ben’s professional life blew up in his face. The constant needling to “call his damn mother” he could live without. But that was a small price to pay for a roof over his head and someone to scheme with.

“Who’s palm do we have to grease to make this problem go away?”

Poe aggressively rolls his eyes. 

“Unlike some of us, I still believe in professional integrity. I’m sure there’s a form or a meeting or a city representative taking comments.”

Now it’s Ben’s turn to roll his eyes. Poe used to be fun before he started working on the side of justice and truth. Public defenders, he thinks, no fun just fighting the good fight the right way.

“Ah but Poe, what’s integrity against a little intrigue. Grease a few palms, black mail people send them an envelope filled with fake blood and a note that says _I know_.”

“Benny. You can’t just say that shit in front of me. You don’t pay me to keep your secrets. There’s no attorney client privilege.”

“If this is a ploy to get me to send you $1 recurringly to keep you on retainer I’m not biting.”

“Fine. Fine. There is that neighborhood forum tomorrow. If you promise to keep your cut and pasted random note at home we can go.”

Ben was about to argue that there’s no drama, no panache to that plan but the incessant beep from an excavator backing interrupted his planned opening statement.

“We do this your way first Dameron. But later, it may be time for the old Solo charm.”

🦈 🐬 🦈 🐬 🦈

If there were one place Ben never wanted to find himself again it would be a neighborhood forum. He didn’t care that Ms. Motha’s cat cafe would be opening in three weeks. He didn’t need to know about the feud about which parking spot belonged to Ms. Holdo and which Mr. Cobb and just why couldn’t they get rid of alternate-side street parking.

“Poe this is the small time. The big league players aren’t here.”

“Don’t get your tits in a twist, bud.” Poe keeps sweeping his eyes over the gathering like what he’s looking for is just around the corner. “Ah! There right there that’s our in! Councilwoman Rey Niima.”

Ben follows Poe’s extended finger across the room and his eyes fall on a sharp figure in a power suit. She’s young and small, so small. But she’s controlling the room with her wide smile and bright eyes and Ben feels a little funny like maybe she’s not the easy mark he thought she was going to be. 

“Councilwoman Niima,” Ben tests her name on his lips and looks her up and down. “Where can I stuff my ballot.”

Poe smacks Ben across the chest. “Don’t be crass. We need her and she looks like she could chew you up and spit you out.”

“No, Poe. It’s time to play hard ball. Be sharks. Circle around her, once we smell blood in the water we lunge. And then, silence. We’ll find peace in our loft.”

“Solo, I really think it’s more a dolphin play. The friendly creature. The affectionate creature. The everyone loves them creature.”

Their conversation takes them right in to the councilwoman’s orbit. 

“Gentleman. Rey Niima, councilwoman, how do you do?” 

Her voice is clear and curt and all business and in the sexiest and most expected British accent. Ben gapes, like a fish. 

“Pleasure to meet you. My name’s Poe, this is my roommate Ben. We’re two of your constituents. And we’ll we have a favor ” 

Poe turns in his megawatt smile. The one that turns the mist curmudgeonly strangers in to friends. 

He receives a single raised delicate eyebrow in return.

“Ah. I recognize an ask when I hear one. What is it gents?” She shakes both their hands. Two pumps. Practical and perfunctory. 

“Well, Miss Niima. We have this problem with night noise and a construction crew,”” Poe starts their tale.

“Construction work? There’s a form for that. Visit the county website search for public works. Bureaucracy at work and your tax dollars in action. Simple”

Poe and Ben exchange glances. It can’t be that easy. 

‘ _Dolphin,’_ Poe mouths with a satisfied smile. 

_‘Shark,’_ Ben mouths back. He sends Poe a look. One that screams check this move out. 

“Rey,” Ben stars placing one hand on her forearm oozing all the charm he hopes to have inherited from his father. “May I call you Rey?”

She glances down at her arm and back at him. Ben slips his hand back to his side. This might be tougher than he thought. 

“As a thank you for leading us in the right direction. Can it take you to dinner? We can talk about neighborhood concerns,” he gives her his best sideways grin. “Or whatever else you may want to talk about.” 

Rey gives him an appraising look. Once all the way up and once all the way down. Her eyes squint in a smile, it’s charming but calculating.

“The Cantina Club. 8 pm tomorrow don’t be late, Ben.”

Smiling to himself Ben turns to Poe. 

“Looks like this shark has a date. And little does she know she’s welcoming me right back home.”

“I don’t know, man. Is it really your home turf if you haven’t set foot in your parents dinner club in fifteen years?”

Ben laughs and claps his hand on Poe’s shoulder. 

“What could go wrong Poe. The prodigal son returns. She’ll be so impressed I’ve got this one in the bag.”

On their walk home Ben can’t stop smiling. He’s a great white and this shark absolutely has come to play. 

  
  


🦈 🐬 🦈 🐬 🦈

He can see it now. She meets him for dinner at his parent’s old club. He knows every person there from the hostess to the bartender. The owner, his dad’s best friend Lando, comes by to drop off drinks--on the house of course. They all give him the nod. He’s returned, a prince among peasants. A god among mortals. Benjamin Organa-Solo back to reclaim his spot in the social scene. 

Councilwoman Niima doesn’t stand a chance. Not only will she fix his night-noise construction nightmare but she might just drop to her knees then and there. How could she not when faced with such a fine specimen of a man. From his social standing to his impeccable hair to his supremely suckable cock just waiting to slip between her lips. That last one might be wishful thinking.

But he’s Ben Solo, he reminds himself, and he’ll have Niima in his pocket and gagging to get in his pants by the time dinner service is over.

Unfortunately for Benjamin Organa-Solo, it doesn’t go quite how he saw it.

He doesn’t recognize a single person in the room as the hostess walks him to the two top he carefully reserved to be in view of everyone at the club. The bartender might be that kid his dad’s friend Chewbacca took under his wing--Larry? Stumpy?--but so far the scheme to circle Councilwoman Niima like a shark is not going to plan.

“Bring me a Manhattan. And if Old Man Lando is in the building make sure to send my regards I’d love to see him.”

The waitress stares at him like he’s speaking another language. She blinks, shakes her head and smiles like she’s talking to a precocious six year old who doesn’t know just how precious the question he asked is.

“Sure sugar, if he’s at the club...I’ll let him know. Be right back with your drink.”

Ben’s head is still swivelling like he’s the subject of an exorcism searching for something that will ground him and cement his place and as the princeling coming home when he hears her.

“Snap! When are they going to let you do more than answer the phones, you’re front of the house talent.”

Ok, he thinks, so she knows one person.

“Lumpy, looking good behind the bar make sure to tell the old man--”

Shit. That’s what Chewy’s kids name was. And how does she know him? And what old man could she be talking about?

Councilwoman Niima arrives at the table the same time the waitress--Katie? Crystal?-- drops off his Manhattan. A drink has never looked so good.

“Ah! Kaydel! Darling, this place doesn’t deserve you.”

Rey intercepts the drink and presses her lips to the glass. Ben’s eyes are almost falling out of his head. Who is this woman that knows everyone at _his_ club. Who is adored by the subjects who should be falling at _his_ feet as the princeling come home. Kaydell is telling her something about how the old man, even Lando is a traitor, is in Vegas but has a proposal for her when she gets back. But it’s what she does next that makes him forget his irritation and forget his plan.

“So, I hear you desperately want something from me.”

She plucks the cherry garnish from his drink and presses the Manhattan in to his hand, lipstick stained on the edge closest to him. What she does to the garnish whites out all thoughts in Ben’s brain. The way her mouth curls around the cocktail stick is obscene. The way her tongue grips the cherry and tugs it in to the depths of her mouth is X-Rated.

The rest of dinner is a blur. Benjamin Organa-Solo was supposed to be the Prince, but as he wills his erection to go down so he can get up from the table, he thinks he may have just found his Queen. 

🦈 🐬 🦈 🐬 🦈

“Poe I’m in love and I don’t care who knows it!”

Ben bursts in to the room arms wide, spinning in a circle. 

“She’s biting and brilliant and knows just how to get the job done. I’m going to be a Kennedy! A Clinton!”

Poe looks up from the mountain of paperwork surrounding him on the couch. “So when can we expect the noise to stop? And when’s the wedding Jackie O?”

Shit. 

“Well we didn’t get quite there…” Ben trails off. Looking down at the couch. “But I’m close, I just know it.”

“Well, Romeo. While you were out getting outfoxed by some feminine wiles I was neck deep in the paperwork she insisted would get the job done.”

“And did it work, Mr. Dolphin?”

“Absolutely not. She’s the shark Ben. I had to fill out form 33-A, reference clause ZF.331 and look up our landlords maiden name and birth city.”

Poe’s waving page after page in his face as if to prove some point. 

“And to top it off, Ben. To top it off once submitted my petition will be seen within the next 535 days.”

Double shit. 

“Well, there’s still time. I’ll get her in my pocket tomorrow. This shark has got a ribbon cutting to go to.”

🦈 🐬 🦈 🐬 🦈  
  


They’re driving to the ribbon cutting for the cat-cafe and Ben can see it playing out in his mind’s eye. Niima is so impressed with his problem-solving skills, his political panache, that she can’t help but do her civic duty right then and there. 

“Ben, I’ve never seen someone handle the pipe lobby like that.” Rey looks at him through fluttering lashes.

The way her lips purse and close around the word pipe has him spiraling. He’s half-hard thinking of all the combinations of his pipe and Rey handling it. On her desk, in the car, on her knees, on her back….

“In fact,” she continues, licking her lips and flicking her eyes from his fly to his mouth and back again. “I think I learned a thing or two I could apply to your pipe.”

Her words are straight out of his filthiest daydreams. This can’t be real, can it? But on the off chance that it’s real, that she is looking at the bulge in his jeans like a rocket pop on a hot summer day, it’d be stupid not to take advantage of it. And Benjamin Solo is definitely, definitely, not stupid.

“Don’t be shy, councilwoman. Put the theory to work,” He puts her hand on the button of his jeans and guides her to the floor in front of him. “I’d love to see that policy in action.”

As she drops to her knees in the space between the two captain’s chairs in the back of the SUV, Ben thanks god for creating the Lincoln Navigator and its spacious second row. 

Rey unzips his jeans and shimmies them partway down his thighs. When she frees his cock from his boxer briefs it bobs, hitting her in the chin and leaving the smallest trace of precum shining on her face.

“Should have worn a hard hat,” Rey quips. “And best put up the sign, women at work.”

The last thought Ben has before his soul proceeds to be sucked directly out of his cock into the councilwoman’s mouth is, “This can’t be real.”

Her lips feel real though. And so does the hot, slippery cave of her mouth. He can’t help but wind his hands through her hair, guiding her head up and down his shaft.

There’s no way the driver isn’t hearing the moans and soft gagging noises coming from the second row. The slurping mixed with the snapping….

The snapping?

Ben’s eyes fly open to a slim hand impatiently snapping its fingers in front of him.

“Ben, where’d you run off too,” Rey’s voice is sharp and her eyes are too focused on his face. Like she’s avoiding letting her gaze fall elsewhere. 

“How do you expect to be the Michelle to my Barack if you can’t keep your focus. Now, let’s go over your notes for the cat-cafe and remember you’re here on my arm.”

He draws the notecards out of his jacket pocket and groans to himself. He knew it was too good to be true. Ben Solo thought he had a lot going for him but maybe he’s not a shark after all. And maybe he’s in over his head.


End file.
